Amos seemed to realize the implication of what he had been saying. He was indignant. ‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘You seemed to think it.’
‘You don’t know what I think.’
‘Of course I do. Women always know what men are thinking.’
Jane Midwinter appeared, dressed in black silk. ‘I haven’t got anyone to dance with,’ she said.
Amos leaped to his feet. ‘You have now,’ he said, and he led her away.
Elsie wanted to cry.
Her mother returned to her seat. Elsie asked her: ‘Is Father all right? He seemed a bit weak. I wondered if he was ill.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Arabella. ‘He says he’s fine. But he’s very overweight, and the least effort seems to tire him.’
‘Oh, dear.’
‘Something else is bothering you,’ Arabella said perceptively.
Elsie could not hide things from her mother. ‘Amos has annoyed me.’
Arabella was surprised. ‘That’s unusual. You’re fond of him, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, but he wants to marry Jane Midwinter.’
‘And she has her heart set on Viscount Northwood.’
Elsie decided to tell her mother about Mackintosh. ‘I think Mr Mackintosh wants to marry me.’
‘Of course he does. I’ve seen how he looks at you.’
‘Really?’ Elsie had not noticed. ‘Well, I could never love him.’
Arabella shrugged. ‘Your father and I never had a grand passion. He’s awfully pompous, but he’s given me comfort and stability, and I like him for that. For his part, he thinks I’m something special, bless him. But on both sides it’s not the kind of love that cries out urgently to be consummated...if you know what I mean.’
Elsie did. The conversation had become intimate. She was embarrassed but fascinated. She said: ‘And now? Are you glad you married him?’
Arabella smiled. ‘Of course!’ She reached out and took Elsie’s hand. ‘Otherwise,’ she said, ‘I wouldn’t have you.’
*
No one worked on a holy day. The important religious festivals were days of rest for the Kingsbridge hands. They had Good Friday, Whit Monday, All Saints’ Day and Christmas Day, plus one that was celebrated only here: St Adolphus’s Day, late in the year. Adolphus was the patron saint of Kingsbridge Cathedral, and a special fair was held on his day.
A light rain was falling, not as bad as the recent torrents. Around this time of year farmers had to decide how many of their livestock they could afford to keep through the winter, then they would slaughter the rest; so the price of meat usually dipped. Also, most farmers had kept back some of their grain harvest to sell later, when the summer plenty had shrunk.
Sal, Joanie and Jarge went to the market square, hoping to find bargains, perhaps some cheap beef or pork, and the children came along for the excitement.
But they were disappointed. There was not much food for saleand nothing was cheap. The women were angered by the prices. They could hardly bear the fear that they might not be able to feed their families. Women who could not name the prime minister said he should be thrown out. They wanted the war to be ended. Some of them said the country needed a revolution, like the ones in America and France.
Sal bought some tripes, sheep’s intestines, which had to be boiled for hours to make them soft enough to chew, and had no flavour unless they were cooked with onions. She wished she had just a little real meat for Kit; such a little boy, and he worked so hard.
On the north side of the square, next to the graveyard, grain was being auctioned. Behind the auctioneer, sacks were piled high, each pile belonging to a different seller. Sal heard bakers muttering angrily about the prices being fetched. One said: ‘If I paid that much for grain, my bread would cost more than beef!’
‘Today’s largest lot, a hundred bushels of wheat,’ said the auctioneer. ‘What am I bid?’
‘Look over there,’ said Joanie. ‘Behind that woman in the red hat.’ Sal scanned the crowd. Joanie said: ‘Is that who I think it is?’
